


Not Enough Handcuffs

by PineChild



Series: x Reader Delights [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Detective AU, Exophilia, Multi, Other, Police Brutality, Slow Burn, Teratophilia, flirty dragonfly boy, gang mention, reader swears a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 11:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineChild/pseuds/PineChild
Summary: You're a detective for the Miami PD, jaded and just wants to take a nap. Living in a society where humans and monsters co-exist with one another, can be far from peaceful. And when the latest bombings of banks occur, never in your wildest dreams would you ever agree to opening your heart to a potential suspect.





	Not Enough Handcuffs

Coffee from the break room was anything but stellar. It was nothing more than watered down, bitter bean slosh in a small styrofoam cup. You even took the liberty to put in a couple sugar packets and creamer just to get the sour taste out of your mouth. Sadly though, you don’t have the time or liberty to get a proper cup of joe, even if you wanted to. 

So despite it being absolutely disgusting, as long as it keeps you caffeinated throughout this case, you’re fine with police station coffee. 

Recently the Miami PD have been caught up with a series of bombings pertaining to banks all over the city, which also results in the mass murder of innocents inside. 

It’s a heavy case and you’ve seen family members of the victims cling on to your co-workers wailing and screeching for justice. Remnants of their screams still ring in your ears.

You felt even worse for the rookies who just started working at the station. You could see the panic in their eyes as they tended to the grieving mothers and fathers while their new uniforms are soaked with tears. This case was more then they could chew, and you knew they would just have to deal with it. For everyone’s sake.

Feeling defeated, you sigh and sink into the chair, thinking about it always left a heaviness in your chest. In the dimly lit break room, you drum your fingers along the dingy wood table, eyeing the manila folder just inches away from your fingertips. The dull buzz of the florescent light above you fill your mind as you reach for it, sighing again. 

You look at the report and a couple newspaper clippings attached to it, your thumb scanning over the details on each document. All the notes you’ve made are hastily scribbled onto the report, mostly due to you being way too tiered at the time. You read the notes once more. 

_Witness accounts point to a solo suspect. About 6 foot tall, male, and has an insect-like body (6 - 8 arms??) Long wings noticeable. Traces of nitroglycerin was found on all events in the same location each time. The explosives seem to be made by hand due to the crude construction, but no fingerprints could be found. Could be a chemist or work in the chemistry field. Known locations of said explosives indicate motive to be more sinister than just robbery._

You rub your temples as you read the last bit. It’s like you’re going in circles trying to piece dead ends together. And the forensics department isn’t giving you much luck either, as most of their answers to you are just a noncommittal shrug to every physical piece of evidence you threw at them.  

You feel a headache coming and continue to rub your temples. Now, you feel the buzz is a little too loud, the lights are a little too bright, and the coffee a little too bitter for your liking. Irritability flushes all over your body.

 However the feeling subsides when you hear the door open, seeing a familiar face enter the room. 

“You alright detective?”  Their voice was calm as always. A bitter chuckle bubbled in your throat as your eye landed onto your partner.

“A little worse for wear, but I’ll manage.” You say, drumming your fingers again. “What do you need Claus?” 

Claus gives you a sympathetic look, taking in your disheveled state. His snout huffs out a puff of air before talking again. It’s a nervous tic you noticed after working countless hours with him. 

“We need you to question a potential suspect. All of our other guys have tried, but he’s not budging. And you might be the only one to get him to talk.” Your face blanches. Honestly, you hate how calm and cool he is despite the desperate situations he’s in.

You can’t even tell if it’s jealousy or just you being crabby. Either way, you leave an audible sound of disgust. 

Claus remains quiet, his small brown eyes bore deep into your skull, almost screaming at you to accept. Sighing, you gather your papers back into the folder and get up from the cheaply made chair. 

“Fine. Give me a couple minutes so I can look semi-presentable.” You say, waving your hand dismissively.

Claus huffs again to your agreement, seemingly pleased. As he turns to leave and wait for you outside, you think you see a small smile form at the corner of his lips.

* * *

After a couple minuets of freshening up (meaning splashing cold water on your face and brushing the knots out of your hair), you emerge from the break room, seeing Claus patiently stand by.

“So who’s this guy?” You ask, not skipping a beat. 

He hums in amusement. “Endril Taomoore. Age: 24, male, roughly around 6 foot, and a dragonfly humanoid-” Dragonfly? Huh, never seen anything like that  before. “Past offences are mostly petty theft from civilians and small businesses. From your notes, he fits the description pretty well.”  You take a moment to process everything. 

“He might be the suspect, he might not. Let’s not get our hopes up.” You drawl, stabbing your finger into his hard chest. The polar bear beside you grunts in agreement before leaving you to your thoughts. 

* * *

Not long after the exchange, you arrive to the interrogation room. A wave of fatigue and overall apathy hit you like a truck. You let out a small groan before turning to Claus. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He nods. 

“The rest of the team and I will be watching behind the mirror.” He states, promptly pointing to the door a few spaces next to yours. You grunt and proceed to enter the interrogation room. 

Entering into (another) dimly lit room you see the potential suspect, slumping in his chair, head looming over the table. From what you can see, he had a brown long side cut, tan skin with little splotches of yellow, orange, and a hint of indigo, a frumpy green cargo jacket with a hideous hawaiian shirt underneath, and a large pair of translucent wings that had a pretty blue to green gradient. 

When he hears you enter the room, he lifts his head a little, multicolored eyes meeting yours. Almost instantly his demeanor changes as he leans back into the chair, letting out a sly whistle. 

“Hellooo  _nurse._ ” A wolfish grin etches onto his face.

Right then and there you wanted to choke this motherfucker out. You are too  _goddamn_ tiered to listen to a sleazy low life thinking if they can flirt with you, they can get away scot-free. However the little Claus in your mind tells you to calm down and stick to the plan. If he’s not the suspect, you can deal with him later. 

Suppressing the urge to knock the stupid smirk on his (rather handsome) face, you take a seat across from him and inhale deeply before speaking.

“What do you know about the bombings.” You flatly inquire, slapping the folder onto the metal table. He chuckles, a little bit of his smile dampens. 

“You just get right to the point don’t cha? Not gonna tell me anything about yourself? Favorite food? Color? Movie?”  He teases, leaning in closer to you, face resting on one of his handcuffed hands. Hell, you notice all six of his hands were handcuffed, which surprises you since most of the officers here can barely keep one set without losing them. 

Your brow quirks to his flirty approach. Surely you can make it without trying to bash his skull in. Right?

“Asking me that kind of crap is not gonna get you anywhere.” You huff, “Tell me what you know about the bombings.” Irritation bubbles in your throat as you press on, sliding the open folder to him. He hums as he glances at the newspaper clippings, skimming over your sloppily written notes. 

“It’s kinda cute how sloppy your handwriting is. But, hate to break it to you beautiful, I was never involved in them.” He says, shrugging nonchalantly. For some reason though, you see a glint of sadness in his eyes. You decide to press further. 

“For having past offences of petty theft, why  _wouldn’t_  you be involved in one of the greatest bank heists in Florida history?”  He hums happily, leaning back into his chair. 

“You’re making this very hard for me to get to know you, ya know.” He says, giving you a cheeky smile. ”How about this - You tell me something about yourself, and I’ll tell you all that you need to know.”  Your brow quirks again. 

“Like 20 questions?” 

He snaps and flashes finger guns at you. “You got it babe.” 

As much as you wanna pistol whip this fool for being obnoxious, if this is gonna make him talk, you’ll play his little game. “Proceed.” You mumble, looking away from his goofy looking face.

“Ok, um, favorite movie?” He grins, flashing a few pearly whites.

“(Favorite Movie). What’s the your motive for  _not_  bombing banks then?” 

“I don’t want to kill people. Favorite Food?” 

“(Favorite Food). Not even if you don’t directly kill them yourself?” 

“Killing makes me sick to my stomach. Favorite band?” 

“(Favorite Band). Why?”  

“For personal reasons. If I took you out on a date, where would you want to go?” 

 Something about that question struck a chord with you. A rush of anger stings at your heart as you can’t help but to feel like he’s mocking you. As if he knew about your past with love, bringing back painful memories of having your heart being broken over and over again, nights spent alone crying yourself to sleep wondering what you did wrong. 

Flirty smooth talkers like him who take advantage of the emotionally vulnerable are people you despise the most.

Your knee-jerk reaction was to slam your fist onto the table. The loud clang makes him jump and lose a little color in his face. Pure hatred shoots into your veins. “Don’t you ever ask me shit like that again, got it?” 

Smile completely gone, he nods. You can see an apologetic glint in his eyes. “A-Ah, sore spot. Got it. Sorry.”  He physically backs off. 

A stir of guilt lies in your gut. Seeing his flirty and obnoxious facade fall in an instant was a blaring sign that he didn’t really mean any harm and that you were acting out of turn and showing your ass. 

You can definitely feel your conscience weighing down on you, not to mention Claus’s motherly gaze searing through the mirror. You’re never gonna hear the end of it from him. 

Taking a deep breath in, you speak to him one more in a calmer tone.

“Nitroglycerin. What do you know about it?” 

He quirks a brow to you before shuffling in his seat. “Well, reading your notes I know it’s an ingredient for bombs and it’s used in some medicine, but I can’t tell you how it works or what you do with it to activate it. I failed chemistry in high school, ya know.” He softly chuckles, clearly trying to bring the mood up. Against all better judgement and guilt, you’re still wary.

“So you can steal things from other people and potentially make them go out of business, but you won’t kill them.” You state, suspicious of his motive. The small hint of sadness in his eyes now seem to pool over as he turns his head away, wistfully looking at the ground. You notice his eyebrows knit together, as if he’s revisiting a painful memory.

“I do it because I have to, not because I want to.” There’s a subtle lilt in his voice, like he’s trying to mask the sadness that laces around his words. You lean in, intrigued in what he has to say. 

Deciding to put your suspicions aside, you let your walls down a little bit. “Tell me about it.” 

He chuckles in spite, turning to you like a wounded dog. “I have to cough up the money to a guy named Tarsh, he’s like a crime lord around these parts. Originally, he was going to take my sister and niece away to sell them in a trafficking ring ‘cuz her boyfriend betrayed him when he was found out working for his rival. But I stepped in and told him that I can pay him whatever amount he wants as long as he leaves them alone. So, I schmooze my way into people’s wallets and cash registers so I can pay my debt to him and also pay for my niece to go to school.” 

“How old is she?” You quietly ask, thumb stroking your cheek.

“She’s 9.”  An uncomfortable heaviness settles in your stomach, especially thinking about her in a trafficking ring. And now that he brought it up, the name does ring a bell, as a couple arrests lately were from his underlings smuggling drugs in from the Bahamas.

“You think Tarsh could be involved in all this? Blowing up banks as a show and taking the money after?”  

Endril shrugs. “Maybe. He’s a greedy fuck after all. I wouldn’t put it past him to have access to all different kinds of materials for explosives. He’s a cicada hybrid, so there’s eerie similarities between him and I. Maybe that’s why I fit in the profile so well, it’s hard to tell the difference between winged insects when it’s such a vague description.” A small, shy smile makes it’s way onto his face, and your heart can’t help but to flutter. 

“If what you’re saying is true, we just might be onto something.” You say, flashing a playful smirk to him. You turn your head to the mirror. “Looks like we’re done here, take him back home and keep a close eye on the kid.” He sputters as you rise up from your seat, tucking the folder under your arm.

Before he could say anything to you, Claus and the rest of his team enter, unlocking his cuffs. You stand in the doorway telling him what your favorite restaurant is. Endril looks at you confused. 

“To answer your question, I’d like to go there for a date. If what you’re saying is true, of course.” You flash him your own cheeky smile. 

Before leaving the room, you see his face beaming and flushed with pink, wings fluttering happily. You can’t help but to feel heat on your cheeks as he yells back to you.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, gorgeous!” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a part two of this story, please let me know! I'd love to hear your suggestions and input!


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